


Little Sammy has a Dark Side

by ihateiloveyou22



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BDSM, Bottom Sam, Humiliation, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 10:51:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10410522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihateiloveyou22/pseuds/ihateiloveyou22
Summary: Sam finally found Dean.Dean warned Sam to stay away, guess now he gets to play.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own these characters, just using them for my own enjoyment.

It's kind of a funny story really, at least Dean thinks so. His eyes flickered to black for the slightest moment as he remembers finding his brother; well, more like his brother finding him. Sam’s eyes were bright with hope, thinking Dean could be fixed. 

He smiled, running his tongue over his teeth as he stared at Sam; the man who was larger than him cowering on his knees in that dark room. For days he had begged for Dean to see the light, to let him go so he could ‘fix this’. 

Dean chuckled softly and Sam shifted on his knees, his head tilting to look up at Dean’s face. “Morning, Princess.” He smirked while watching Sam’s eyes as he circled him. Sam was past begging now, he knew it wasn't going to work. Rather, he was making his way towards being royally pissed. 

“Fuck you.” He hissed. Dean smiled but Sam couldn't see him anymore. He inspected his brother’s wrists and knees; his knees were being rubbed raw but his wrists were only bruised. “It's only been a few days yet you're already trying to get in my pants.” Dean hooked his arm under Sam’s and lifted him to his feet. The man grunted in pain as his sore knees were forced to hold his weight for the first time in over a week and Sam was too tired to fight as Dean led him towards the dungeon of the bunker. 

“I thought I taught you better then this, Sammy. Already given up?” Dean secured Sam’s cuffs onto a chain that was embedded in the wall. Sam had enough leeway to walk from one end of the room to the other, but couldn't get anywhere near the door. Dean had supplied him with a bed and a small light but nothing else. 

“Dean… If you're in there-” Sam started but was cut off by the look Dean threw at him.  
“Already fucking told you, Sam. It's me. There's no changing me now, I'm happy this way.” He ran his thumb over Sam's cheek, watching closely as his brother fought to keep still. He was learning.

“I gotta run some errands, Sam. If you need to use the bathroom you’re gonna have to hold it until I get back.” After giving Sam one last look, he turned on his heel and left. With the door slamming shut, Sam could hear the lock being put in place. 

He wanted to cry, scream even, but he knew it would only amount to nothing. He knew the bunker like the back of his hand; no one other than Dean, Cas, and him knew this place existed. At this point, even if he tried to escape, Dean was much stronger than him now. Sam hadn't eaten anything in days, Dean only allowed him enough water to keep him from being completely dehydrated. 

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, hoping to come up with a plan, but nothing came to mind. He was stuck here, Dean wasn't his brother anymore, and Sam didn't know what he wanted from him. He grunted softly as he made his way to the bed, knees close to buckling under him. The hard mattress felt like heaven after only sleeping on cold cement for the last few days. He closed his eyes, sleep finding him quickly.

=======

Dean watched Sam sleep. He looked peaceful that way. His eyes moved from Sam's face to his ribs, a nasty shade of greenish-blue from where Dean had kicked him after he tried to escape the first time. His chest was scattered with discoloration from the few times Dean needed to keep Sam at bay. The boy did put up a good fight, but then again, Dean was the one who trained him to.

The memories of Sam weren't lost in him; no, he could remember everything. He could vividly remember helping Sam tie his shoes before school, or even stealing him a lunch box with his favorite tv show featured on the front. He remembered how Sam's face lit up when he saw it. He just couldn't feel a damn thing. The memories went through his mind like a movie he'd seen one too many times: he remembered, just didn't care.

“Sammy.” Dean whispered. When Sam didn't move, he inched closer. “Come on, Sammy. Wake up, time for breakfast.”

Sam's eyes opened slowly to see Dean smiling down at him. Green eyes bright, his worn jeans and black tee shirt on like always, and for just a moment he swore Dean was his brother again. 

“There you are, Princess. You hungry?” Dean’s smile turned dark as his tongue snaked out to wet his lower lip.

“No.” Sam said simply. He would rather starve than be kept here any longer.

“Aw, Sammy-”

“Don't call me Sammy!” He growled. He was tired of the games, tired of this monster who wears his brother’s face. “I swear to God I'll fucking kill you.” He spat. Immediately after the words had left his lips his face was forced to the side as Dean slapped him. He was barely able to catch his breath before he was being pulled off the bed by his hair. In only a moment, Dean had him back on his knees.

“You know, Sammy. I'm gettin’ real tired of your shit.” He hissed, pulling Sam's head back by his hair until he was forced to look up at him. The defiance was clear in Sam's eyes. 

“Eat me, bitch.” Sam bit out through clenched teeth. He saw it coming, saw Dean’s arm tense before he felt the pain of his fist connecting with his jaw. Stars burst behind Sam’s eyes as the second hit met with his nose. Everything went blurry as the tears started to form; he could vaguely see Dean getting to his knees by his head. Sam could just vaguely make out Dean’s indifferent expression.

Dean watched as Sam let go, the tears spilling down his cheeks freely. He gave him a minute to pull himself together again, “You need to shower, either you wash yourself or I keep you on your knees and wash you myself.” 

Sam hesitated for a moment before trying to sit up. Dean helped him and used this thumbs to wipe away the drying tears from Sam's eyes; the younger man almost looked grateful.

Sam allowed Dean to wash him, he was in too much pain to fight back and it wouldn't get him anywhere but back on the ground either way. He simply kept his mouth shut when Dean ordered him to put his head under the spray of water in order to rinse out his hair. Dean could see Sam was tense, his muscles tight and lips pressed together into a firm line. It made something stir inside him; the dark part of his hell bound soul did flips as Sam kept his head down and mouth shut. The listless submission clear as day under those spring loaded muscles that formed his brother.

He wanted him. He wanted to take from Sam just as much as he wanted Sam to give it to him. Dean got high off of the idea that Sam still wanted to fight him, a fucking knight of Hell, rather than to simply lay down and beg. 

Sam wasn't the little Sammy Dean had stored in his thoughts. The man in front of him was no child, not anymore. “If I take the cuffs off, are you going to try and fight me?” Dean asked softly as he ran his hands over Sam's reddened wrists. He watched Sam carefully, his jaw tensing and muscles flexing under his slightly tanned skin, no doubt trying to assess his own strength. 

“No.” Came the almost regretful answer. Dean took his time with the key, dropping the heavy metal to the floor once he was done. He massaged the soap into Sam's skin and observed the damage, nothing permanent.

“You should be thanking me, Sammy.” He said after handing Sam a towel. The man lifted his eyes to Dean’s before letting out a clipped laugh, “That so?” He asked before toweling over his dripping hair.

“I could have killed you the second you walked into that bar. We both know it. Instead, here you are. Safe and sound.” Dean was leaning against the door when Sam finished with his hair, using his fingers to pull it back out of his eyes.

He took a minute to really look at his brother, all lean muscle that screamed hard work and power. There was nothing terrifying about Dean per say, on the outside he was still Dean: His brother, the person he looked up to the most. It was only when his smirk would turn dark right before his eyes flickered that brought Sam back to the realization he wasn't really Dean anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> More coming soon...


End file.
